A Common Language
by Hazel-Beka
Summary: America and England start a war in a UN meeting over whose English is superior. Germany is slowly driven insane. 'Oh, U,' America moaned mockingly. 'Spank me harder.' Rated for language


**A/N - I apologise for the lack of originality and the shortness, but I hope this can still amuse you until I manage to write something better**

**A Common Language**

It was two o'clock in the afternoon, and Germany was experiencing the slowest hour of his life. It was going so slowly, in fact, that he was beginning to seriously consider filing a complaint. He wasn't yet sure who he would complain _to_, but the fact remained that Time had broken down and sorely needed someone to oil its cogs and give it a long-overdue maintenance check. If nobody took care of this soon, then Germany was afraid that he would have no choice but to resort to murder. And he knew just who the victims would be.

"Give it up, old man! There's nothing wrong with the word 'trashcan'. It's a can that you put trash in, what's so wrong with that?"

"First of all, it's not 'trash', it's 'rubbish'. Secondly, it's not a 'can', it's a 'bin'. Honestly, I thought you'd grown out of using made-up words."

Germany groaned, although everyone else in the room was too engrossed with watching the heated debate to notice. During the early stages of the row, Germany had tried to break it up, but then America had pointed out the logic of 'sidewalk' and England had countered with a well-structured attack on American 'football' and the disagreement had evolved into a full, raging argument. It might even have been classified as a war. Indeed, the other countries had started to form alliances depending on which type of English they spoke, although several, to Germany's relief, had declared neutrality on the grounds that English was a stupid language anyway. Canada was being fought over intermittently, and the only thing stopping an all out brawl over whose side he should be on was the fact that every time the argument started to get heated, the participants would forget who they were talking about and spend the next ten minutes thoroughly confused before somebody remembered.

Meanwhile, oblivious to all of this, England and America were still bickering incessantly over the differences in their languages. As the focus of their endless string of complaints turned from vocabulary to grammar (something that made several of the nations stop and stare at America, impressed that he even understood what grammar _was_), Germany let his head fall onto the table with an audible clunk. He gave up. He was going to sit right here and wait until everyone had killed each other, or, if there were any survivors, he was going to attempt to explain to them what a United Nations meeting was supposed to comprise of. He wasn't hopeful that they would be able to grasp the concept, but he felt it was his duty to try.

"You could at least have the decency to keep your Americanisms to yourself," England was growling now. "The number of young, impressionable people I hear in England saying 'dreamed' and 'learned' is appalling! And 'gotten'. What the fuck is '_gotten_'?!" He flailed his arms around to express his utter outrage, or perhaps it was an attempt to poke out America's eyes, Germany wasn't sure.

"It must be correct if your people are starting to use it," America shot back victoriously. "They've clearly realised that American English is superior to-"

"You can't even _spell_ 'realised'," England interrupted. "Why do you insist on having such an indecent love affair with the letter Z?"

"What?! At least I'm not U's bitch," America shot back. "That letter has you _whipped_."

"I'll have you know that English is _my_ language, and I-"

"Oh U!" America moaned mockingly. "Spank me harder!" England flushed and spluttered, and Germany wondered whether there was any way that the conversation could become more stupid.

"Y-You!" England shouted as he regained the ability to speak coherently. "Stop defiling my letters by talking about them like that!"

"You're just jealous that O gets more action with U than you do," America accused. Germany started to bang his head against the table.

"I don't-" England tried to protest.

"Look me in the eye and deny it!" There was a moment of silence between the two, during which each nation tried to stare the other down. Then England lowered his eyes in defeat.

"That O is a fucking whore," he muttered.

"I bet U calls out its name in bed," America crowed victoriously. England returned to glaring at him.

"Oh? Is that why you're holding a grudge?" he asked.

At this point, something inside Germany snapped, and it wasn't because of the abuse he was inflicting on his forehead. He stopped trying to escape the idiocy by means of unconsciousness and slowly stood up. At first, nobody noticed except Italy, but as he walked down the table towards the two oblivious idiots, the rest of the nations in the room suddenly became aware of the aura of oncoming doom and stopped throwing stationary at each other so that they could watch. Those sitting close to where America and England were standing shuffled away slightly, although the two were bickering so intently that they only noticed that something was amiss when Germany grabbed them both by the shoulder. They finally paused and looked at him.

"Shut up," Germany said in a tone so calm with anger that it could have moved mountains, "And maybe I'll consider letting you live." For a second, America looked as though he were going to protest, but then his self-preservation instincts kicked in and he merely sat down on his seat very slowly, in case any sudden movements sent Germany over the edge. England hastily copied him. Germany stood there staring at them for a long, awkward moment, just to make sure that they were suitably unnerved before looking up at the rest of the room. For some reason, nobody seemed to want to meet his eyes.

"If you're all done arguing, I think it's time that we began discussing the topics we came here to discuss," he said icily, before turning and making his way back to his seat. The silence lasted until he had sat down, and then France smiled and clapped softly.

"Thank you for restoring order to these uncivilised brats," he said, and Germany was about to point out that he had _seen_ France actively participating in the fight over Canada (on behalf of the American English side, not because he spoke it but because he didn't want to ally himself with England), but France continued before he could open his mouth. "After all, it's obvious that the only language worth speaking is French."

Two minutes later, the war had resumed.

Three minutes after that, Germany finally managed to escape into sweet, blessed unconsciousness.


End file.
